Independence Day in Cherry Hills

by Paige Sleuth

  Independence Day in Cherry Hills

  A Cozy Cat Caper Mystery

  Book 24

  Paige Sleuth

  Copyright © 2018 Marla Bradeen (writing as Paige Sleuth)

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Marla Bradeen.

  This book or portions of it (excluding brief quotations) may not be reproduced without prior written permission from the publisher/author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), actual businesses, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If this ebook copy was not purchased by or for you, please purchase your own copy before reading. Thank you for respecting this author’s work.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  CHECKED OUT IN CHERRY HILLS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Boom!

  The explosion rang in Katherine Harper’s ears and sent her two cats running for safety. Matty and Tom almost collided with each other in their frantic race out of the living room, a scene that might have been comical under different circumstances. But right now Kat was at her wits’ end. She would run too if she thought there was any way to escape.

  Boom!

  And there it was again.

  Kat shook her fist at the window from her seat on the sofa. “Enough already!”

  Andrew Milhone draped his arm around her shoulders, a wide grin splitting his face and bringing out his adorable twin dimples. “Someone’s in a festive mood.”

  “I’ll be festive on Monday, when it’s actually the Fourth of July. But that’s still three days away. I don’t know if I can take this all weekend.”

  “It is kind of annoying,” Andrew agreed. “But after this it’ll be quiet for another six months until New Year’s.”

  “New Year’s isn’t nearly this bad.” Granted, her opinion was based solely upon the most recent New Year’s. Although she had grown up in Cherry Hills, she couldn’t remember what the local celebrations had been like seventeen years ago when she’d last spent a summer here. The next year had brought with it her high school graduation, legal freedom from the foster care system, and her solemn vow never to return to the small, Central Washington town.

  Except she had returned. She still remembered that day last July when she’d first run into Andrew after not seeing him for fifteen years. Their reunion had taken place under less than fortunate circumstances, but discovering that her old friend and fellow foster care survivor still lived in town had been a welcome surprise. What had been an even more welcome surprise were the romantic sparks that soon developed between them. By August they were dating, and thanks to Andrew the past eleven months had been some of the happiest ones in her life.

  Or maybe she had Matty and Tom to thank for her recent happiness. The two cats had entered her life around the same time as Andrew. How two tiny creatures could bring her so much joy still astonished her. Her heart felt close to bursting every time she thought of them.

  But right now the only thing on the verge of bursting was Kat’s temper.

  Another bang rang out, this one loud enough to rattle her teeth. She nudged Andrew with her elbow. “You’re a cop. Can’t you flash that badge of yours around and get them to stop?”

  “Sorry. Cherry Hills doesn’t have any ordinances against setting off fireworks on private property.”

  “It’s still a noise violation, isn’t it?”

  He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Tell you what. We’ll give them five more minutes. If this continues any longer than that I’ll go talk to them, neighbor to neighbor.”

  Kat bobbed her head. “And if they don’t listen, you can shake your handcuffs and threaten to take them down to the station.”

  Andrew chuckled. “You sure are worked up tonight.”

  “You saw Matty and Tom. They’re scared to death. And there’s no telling how many other terrified animals are suffering out there all because a few inconsiderate people want to have fun with pyrotechnics.”

  Kat pictured Matty and Tom cowering in the shadows of her bedroom. She wished she could explain to them what was going on. The poor things probably thought Cherry Hills was under siege from enemy forces.

  She jumped off the couch. “I should go check on the cats.”

  Before Andrew could reply, she raced down the short hallway to her bedroom. She flicked on the light and looked around, spying Matty’s gray-striped tail poking out from underneath the bed. It twitched in short, decisive bursts of motion, a sure sign the tortoiseshell was agitated.

  Kat lowered herself to the floor. Lying down, she had a clear view of the yellow-and-brown feline huddled near one of the bed frame’s support posts, her green eyes the size of coconuts. Kat reached out to stroke her head.

  “It’ll be all right, baby. By this time next week all will be quiet again.” At least, she certainly hoped that was the case. If this went on for a full week she would have to seriously consider moving.

  A soft meow drew Kat’s attention to her left. She hadn’t noticed him at first, but Tom had also taken refuge under the bed. He was nearly invisible behind the colony of lost cat toys that had slowly been accumulating in the corner for the past eleven months.

  “Hey, Tommy.” Kat stretched her hand toward him. “Come on over here.”

  Tom stared impassively back at her. The brown-and-black cat usually relished any opportunity for physical contact, but right now he didn’t look inclined to move even for the promise of a belly rub.

  “I don’t blame you for not budging.” Since Matty was the only animal within reach, Kat started petting her again. “If it were up to me, I’d ban fireworks here.”

  Matty twisted her head around and bit Kat’s fingers. Evidently she didn’t think their human was doing enough to preserve the peace in their hometown.

  “All right, I get the message.” Kat withdrew her hand with a sigh. “I’ll leave you two alone for now.”

  She stood up, knowing there was nothing she could do to put them at ease. Still, her heart was heavy as she trudged back to the living room to rejoin Andrew.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “As well as it can be. They’re both hiding under the bed.” Kat stood near the edge of the living room, considering. “Think I should slip some food and water under there for them? They might get hungry before things quiet down.”

  Andrew smirked. “I think you spoil those two enough. But you can do whatever you want.”

  “I just feel so bad for them. They must think we’re in a war zone. Whoever came up with the idea of—”

  Another blast sounded, cutting off Kat’s words.

  Exasperation bubbled up her chest, and the last of her patience snapped. “That’s it!” Her hands balled into fists. “If you don’t go talk to those people now, I’m going to hunt them down myself. And I probably won’t be nearly as nice as you would be.”

  Andrew didn’t appear to hear her. His body had gone rigid, and his jaw was clenched so tightly Kat could see the cords of his facial muscles bunching underneath his skin. Registering the change in his demeanor, her irritation morphed into concern.

  “What i
s it?” she asked.

  He raked his fingers through his hair as he stood up and walked over to the window. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been listening to this ever since the sun went down at nine. What do you think I’ve been complaining about for the past hour? It’s times like this I wish I knew the mayor or someone in politics. I can’t be the only person in Cherry Hills who wants to outlaw fireworks.”

  “That was no firework.” Andrew spun on his heel and strode toward the door. “That was a gunshot.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kat sprinted through her apartment building’s third-floor corridor, down the two flights of stairs, and across the lobby. Running toward gunfire ran counter to all her instincts, but staying inside while Andrew put himself in harm’s way seemed wrong. Who would call for help if he ended up injured? He might be a trained police detective, but he was still human. All it would take was one stray bullet and she could lose him forever.

  Andrew burst outside first. Not only was he faster, but Kat had deliberately kept some distance between them. If he spotted her following him he would undoubtedly insist she go back upstairs.

  By the time Kat exited the building and stepped into the warm, night air, Andrew was already headed toward the street, his cell phone pressed to one ear. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she suspected he was calling for backup.

  Kat watched him, curious if his policeman’s ear had been able to pinpoint the location of the shot. She hadn’t heard any follow-up shots, but her heart was pounding so hard she could barely make out her own ragged breathing.

  Andrew whipped around, and their eyes locked. He pulled his phone away from his ear and cupped his hand around the mouthpiece as though he was going to tell her something. But whatever he was about to say never made it past his lips. A cry of “Help!” cut through the night air before he could speak.

  Andrew pivoted to the right and took off in a dead run. Kat followed him, the adrenaline coursing through her system enabling her to move faster than she’d thought possible.

  They had only gone about a block before they came to a cute, two-story house. Underneath the porch light a fifty-something man and woman stood shoulder to shoulder. The man had his horrified gaze trained on a dark shadow in the middle of the front lawn, but he looked up when Andrew and Kat drew near.

  “Help!” the man on the porch yelled again. He stepped away from the woman and waved one hand in the air. “Please help!”

  Andrew rushed up the driveway. “Are you injured?”

  The man shook his head. “We’re okay. It’s him who needs help.” He aimed one finger at the shadow on the lawn.

  Kat halted at the edge of the property, the sight in front of her turning her entire body cold. The shadow was actually a figure lying facedown—a man most likely, judging by the short haircut and suit. The blood staining the grass beneath him sent bile rising up Kat’s throat, and she clamped one hand over her mouth.

  Andrew approached the fallen man. “What happened?”

  “Somebody shot him,” the man on the porch said.

  Andrew fumbled with the prone man’s collar, no doubt to check for a pulse. After a moment he slowly rose to his feet. The lack of urgency in his movements sent Kat’s stomach sinking to the ground. They were too late to save whoever this guy was.

  Andrew surveyed their surroundings, his hand already moving toward his holster. “Did you see the shooter?”

  The man on the porch shook his head. “No.”

  “Can you tell me anything about their escape?”

  The man scratched his head. “Their escape?”

  “Did you see a car driving away, taillights in the distance, a person running—anything that would indicate how they got away or what direction they went in?” Andrew clarified.

  “I didn’t see anything. They must have already been gone when I came out of Clarissa’s house.”

  “When you came over to my house,” the woman beside him corrected.

  “Right.” He nodded. “When I came over. I live over there.” He flapped his hand sideways, a gesture that could indicate any of the houses between here and the Pacific seaboard.

  The woman faced Andrew. “Floyd came over when he heard the shot.”

  “And did you happen to see anything to help identify the shooter, ma’am?” Andrew asked.

  The woman shook her head, her short, cinnamon-colored curls bouncing around her shoulders.

  Floyd ran thick fingers through his own sparse, brown hair. “I should call the police.” He turned toward the house. “I’ll go do that now.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Andrew pulled out his badge and held it in front of him as he approached the porch. “I’m Detective Andrew Milhone from the Cherry Hills Police Department, and I already phoned in the situation. Backup should be arriving soon.”

  Floyd looked relieved to hear that someone official had taken control of the situation. He collapsed into a nearby Adirondack chair as if he now had permission to completely fall apart.

  Andrew slid his badge back into his pants pocket. “Do you live here, ma’am?”

  “I do.” The woman descended the three porch steps and stood on one of the flat stones that formed a footpath between the porch and the driveway. “I’m Clarissa LaPierre.” She nodded at the fallen man. “And that’s my husband, Jay.”

  She made the statement so matter-of-factly that Kat didn’t immediately register her words. The dead man was her husband? Kat never would have guessed from her decidedly detached manner. Even Floyd seemed more shaken by Jay’s death. The poor man was currently fanning himself with one hand, looking as if he were about to pass out.

  If Andrew was surprised by Clarissa’s lack of emotion, he was professional enough to hide it. “Can you tell me what happened here this evening?” he asked her.

  “Somebody shot my husband. He went out after work and must have just gotten back. I didn’t even know he was here until the gunshot went off and I saw him lying there.”

  Kat crept closer to better hear their exchange and to have an excuse to turn her back on Jay’s body. Looking at it gave her the willies, but with it sprawled in her line of vision she found it difficult to tear her gaze away.

  “Mrs. LaPierre,” Andrew said, his calm, rational voice mirroring hers, “is there anyone in particular you can think of who might have wanted to harm your husband?”

  Clarissa let out a mirthless laugh. “Where should I begin?”

  Andrew had been in the middle of extracting a notepad and pen from his breast pocket, but now he paused. “I take it your husband had a lot of enemies?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I suppose it comes with the territory when you’re a divorce lawyer.”

  “Does anyone in particular stand out in your mind?”

  “How about Mitch Townsend? He was one of my husband’s most recent clients and perhaps his only deeply disgruntled one since Jay passed the bar twenty years ago. Mitch didn’t receive hardly anything during his divorce proceedings, and what he did get went to pay Jay’s fees. It couldn’t be helped, really. Washington is a community property state, and as a couple they didn’t have much. But his ex had some assets to her name before they met, including the family home she inherited. Still, Mitch felt Jay didn’t do enough to get what he deemed to be his due. I heard from Jay he pitched quite a fit in the courtroom. But what do you expect from someone with anger management issues?”

  Kat filed Mitch Townsend’s name away. Someone with anger management issues certainly sounded capable of a drive-by shooting to kick off what should have been a festive holiday weekend.

  “Or how about Eunice Berkowitz?” Clarissa continued. “Her husband was also one of Jay’s clients. But unlike Mitch, he made out like a bandit. I take it he had spent years siphoning money into accounts the courts couldn’t touch—not that anything could be proved. The whole thing really ripped his poor wife apart. In fact, Eunice showed up here in tears about a month ago when Jay refused
to see her at his office. When I told her Jay wasn’t here she appealed to me. She told me about how she had ended up losing not only what should have been hers financially, but custody of her teenage son Presley too. Now she lives all alone in one of those dumpy mobile homes on Mad Meadow Road down by the railroad tracks.”

  Andrew scribbled in his notepad. “Anybody else you can think of?”

  “Not offhand, but I can assure you there are many more people in town who have a grudge against my husband. He isn’t called the Clean ’Em Out King for nothing.”

  Andrew tipped his head. “The what?”

  “The Clean ’Em Out King,” Clarissa repeated. “You hire Jay, and you have a good chance of cashing out in your divorce, all at your spouse’s expense. It might require some shady accounting and low moral standards, but if you were game so was Jay.”

  “I see.”

  “My husband was a ruthless man, Detective.”

  Clarissa’s statement prompted Kat to wonder what the LaPierres’ own marriage had been like. Had the Clean ’Em Out King been as ruthless at home as he was in the courtroom? Perhaps. Clarissa didn’t seem that torn up about his death, at any rate. Or was she simply in shock?

  “If you’d like, I can go through Jay’s files and compile a list of all the disgruntled divorcés in Cherry Hills unlucky enough to have found themselves pitted against him at one time or another,” Clarissa offered.

  “I would appreciate that.” Andrew pulled a business card out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. “You can email it to me, or call me when you’re ready and I’ll come pick it up.”

  Clarissa took the card from him. “I’ll do that. Please be forewarned though, it’s going to be a long list.”

  “I understand.” Andrew worked his jaw for a moment, then asked, “Where was your husband tonight before he came home?”

  “Out having drinks with some other attorneys and a few of the legal staff.”

  “And where did Mr. LaPierre and his colleagues go for drinks tonight?”

  Clarissa shrugged. “My husband rarely kept me apprised of his whereabouts, Detective.”